Threads
by dizzy - in - the - izzy
Summary: "The people who love you will worry about you even if you don't need them too." Oneshot.


**Title: **Threads  
><strong>Author: <strong>dizzy - in - the - izzy  
><strong>Rating: <strong>K...+  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I used to a lot funnier...

**A/N: **So, this started as a random thought, and I wrote the first couple of paragraphs in a hurry one day, and then forgot about this. And then one day (Saturday) I opened this back up and realized that I could do something with this, and so I wrote this. I was going to have this be another ship, and then I decided I really should make it Tiva because I kinda miss writing calm, relaxed and fluffy Tiva.

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><p>He is unraveling her, pulling all of her threads. The knots she's tied are becoming useless as he pulls and pulls on every thread she's spent years weaving together. Soon, she'll be more exposed than she was at birth. And to think she made a promise to herself to keep it together. She was going to remain strong. This isn't a corny movie.<p>

Yet, here he is, continuing to pull. She is nothing more than a blanket, an article of cloth that he's picked up into his hands and is pulling at. It is almost obsessive, something he has to do. But she knows he isn't doing it to hurt her, or mess her up. He is gentle with the pulling, and kind at heart.

And it wasn't all at once either. Slowly, over the course of their relationship, he pulled oh so gently. It took her months and months to see what he was doing. And when she finally understood what he'd done, what she'd allowed him to do, she couldn't mind. She kept playing his game.

It had started simple. A confidant. Someone to talk to, that wasn't going to judge her, or see her flaws as though they were scratched on her skin. He took her flaws and not only accepted them, but did something she thought no one would do. He buried them in his own persona, and kept them his secret as well as hers. They were never spoke of again, and it worked that way. They didn't spend hours and days speaking of one subject. He'd hear what he needed (wanted) to hear, and then it was good. Settled.

She lies on the bed, her body flat and comfortable. His head is resting on her shoulder, his hands playing with her hair. They lay like this often, her fingers locked around his shoulders and his enveloped in her hair. His body is warm, stuck to her side. She loves the feeling of his breath on her chest, the wisps of warm air falling against her skin. She wraps her arms tighter around his shoulders, pressing her fingers into his skin. He sighs.

"You seemed tense at work today," he whispers, and she shuts her eyes as his fingers massage her side. His fingers work to ease her tension, moving from her side to her head, where his fingers gently rub her temples. She hums in appreciation.

"I had not noticed," she whispers, her hands stilling as his fingers work on her temples. Soon, he moves his fingers through her hair, up onto her scalp. He begins to massage her scalp, his fingers moving in small circles. She melts into his touch, her mind clearing.

"You should change careers and become a massage therapist," she mumbles through her calm, and he chuckles. He doesn't stop his actions though, and he presses a kiss to her collarbone.

"Well, if I did pick a different profession, I wouldn't see you every day at work," he whispers back, pressing another kiss to her skin.

"You would miss me," she states, and he chuckles again.

"No, you'd miss me."

She moves her hands up to his neck, taking her turn to massage his muscles. His neck is the source of all his stress, and she works to undo the knots there.

"I would. I'd miss knowing how your day went without all the fuss of extracting it from you," he says with a laugh, and she pinches his skin. He makes a sound of pain, before she kisses his head. His hair tickles her nose, and she feels herself smile. His neck is becoming less and less of a problem, and she carefully moves her fingers along his skin.

"Today was fine," she whispers as his hands do their own dance along her face. She can feel his disbelief on her head. His fingers move just a big harder over her scalp, and she has to pause her train of thought for a second. It isn't fair, what he can do to her.

"Except for the fact that it wasn't," he whispers back, moving his hands out of her hair. He doesn't move after that, his arms still and at his sides. She keeps up her motions on his neck, lightly touching the base of his scalp. She hears his sharp intake of breath, and she begins to move her fingers in circles there.

"I was a little stressed," she says quietly, his body becoming a little bit heavier. She knows sleep is not that far off for him, but he'll push through to hear her say he was right.

"Ziva, you looked close to tears twice."

His statement stills her fingers, as she almost pinches him again. But she can't, because he's right. It had been a very stressful day, and the case was one she found herself attached to. And it didn't help that she'd had an argument with Gibbs. It never helped her to argue with him.

"Maybe I was," she whispers, and he moves off her chest. He looks down at her, his eyes piercing through her outer shell and finding exactly what he needs in her eyes. She feels somewhat uncomfortable, but she knows he isn't judging. He bends down and kisses her softly before moving to lie on his side of the bed. She follows him, her body fitting perfectly against his side.

"You looked upset by the case," she states, and he shrugs.

"I was concerned," he pauses to look at her for a moment, "about you."

She smiles up at him. She doesn't know how much longer she is going to be awake, and her eyes have become too heavy to keep open. They are quiet for a moment, his arms moving to encompass her. She won't tell him (unless he asked) but she always feels safe in his embrace.

"I am always concerned about you," he says suddenly, and she perks her ears to listen to him.

"You do not have to be, I am capable of caring for myself," she says, and he shifts. She opens her eyes to see him staring down at her again.

"I know you can, but that doesn't mean I'll stop. The people who love you will worry about you even if you don't need them too," his voice is firm, and it almost sounds like he dares her to contradict him. But she can't. She shuts her eyes and moves so she is facing forward. There is a sting in her eyes.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she whispers against his shirt, her head moving with his breathing. He squeezes her, one of his hands coming to cup her face. He put light pressure under her chin so she'll look up, and she opens her eyes to stare at his face.

"You know I love you," Tony caresses her cheek, "even if I'm not telling you 24/7."

His voice is barely above a whisper, and even so, his conviction is right in her ear. She untangles herself from his arms and moves so she is sitting on his waist. She hovers over him for a moment before she kisses him with what she hopes is the same conviction he has in his voice. His hands tangle into her hair again, this time to hold her there. She pulls back to breathe, and she feels the smile he wears.

"I love you," she whispers against his skin, before kissing him again.

She feels a couple more threads pull apart, but a few sew back together. Maybe it is the affirmation of his feelings, or the knowledge that she has him under her thumb for the time being, but either way, she feels good. She blames the late time, and her unyielding need to sleep, but she is sure she's pulled a couple of his threads. She can feel the relaxation in his body, the trust.

Snuggling deeper into the covers, she feels her body give in to sleep. His arms wrap around her shoulders again.

In the morning, and in days to come, there will be more threads to pull at, and feeling to uncover, but for now she is content.

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><p><strong>AN: **(this has been sitting in my documents for two weeks, you may hit me with a stick.) I'm not so sure about this, but I thought it was a cute idea.

Reviews are always appreciated.

-Izzy


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